


A love for the songs to sing of

by Tessisbest



Series: A song of Haikyuu!! and indulgent writing [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - A Song of Ice and Fire, Arranged Marriage, Arryn! Kiyoko, Bastard! Koushi, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Game of Thrones-esque, Other characters pop up briefly, Romance, Stark! Daichi, Stark! Wakatoshi, Targaryen! Alisa, Targaryen! Koushi, Targaryen! Lev, courting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:46:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8756743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tessisbest/pseuds/Tessisbest
Summary: Royal bastard Koushi Targaryen is to be wed to a woman he has never met, the famous beauty Lady Kiyoko of House Arryn. They fall in love among the snows of the Eyrie and find kindred spirits in one another.This is a a continuation and companion piece to my other Haikyuu!!/ASOIAF story "I am yours and you are mine." but it can be read as a stand alone.





	1. Of flowers and snowflakes

**Author's Note:**

> As with my other ASOIAF piece I tried to make it access able to people who have no knowledge of ASOIAF or GoT. Hopefully I accomplished that.  
> I love this pairing so much and after that adorable scene in season 3 I knew I had to extend this Au to include some Sugakiyo. :)  
> Without further ado I hope you enjoy reading this story. :)

Koushi sits between his trueborn brother and sister, his stomach filled with knots. Why has he been called before the king? It is not often his father summons him when the family gathers together to discuss house politics. He may be a man of twenty but he feels like a child in front of the Targaryen House leader and the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.

He watches with wary eyes as his father and Alisa discuss her upcoming nuptials to the Warden of the North. He’s largely ignored and it suits him just fine, the sooner he can get back to the gardens on this fine day, just him and his music among the green finery.

His gaze wanders about the room. He can count on his fingers how many times he has been to his father’s personal study. The great red dragon tapestry behind his father’s chair seems to mock him. _You do not belong here_.

Beside him Lev shifts in boredom, doing a bad job of disguising the tiny kitten in the folds of his clothing. Koushi is sure his father is aware of its presence but has decided to pick his battles with the willful, young prince. A dark stab of something close to jealousy passes through Koushi at the difference in treatment. He knows it would be a different story had he been in his younger brother’s place, flouting the seriousness of these family strategy meetings for want of a better word. But the feeling is fleeting. He is used to it, and it is not Lev’s fault.

He’s jolted out of his thoughts by his father’s cough. When he raises his gaze he finds three sets of pale blue-green eyes on him. The eyes he does not have.

“It’s time you were wed.”

Koushi freeze like a fugitive at the end of an arrow, his heart thumbing painfully loud in his chest.

“Father?”  

His father forges onward, his stern face unchanging.

“You are a Targaryen in blood if not in name, I am sure I can find a suitable bride for one connected to the crown.”

Lev’s eyes are comically wide, unaware of the kitten trying to make a bid for freedom onto the floor. In comparison Alisa’s face is serene, as composed as it always it, but Koushi can see her calculating behind her sweet expression. She is his last hope. They are fond of each other and Alisa has always been the favourite of his father. But she is quiet; Koushi will receive no help from her here.

He has been silent too long, his father’s face takes on a dark look and Koushi quickly scrambles for the appropriate response.

“I…..thank you my lord.” Koushi says, bowing his head in resignation. 

“You sound as if you already have someone in mind father.” Alisa’s voice is cautious, her eyes slightly narrowed as she looks between her father and her bastard brother.

“You are correct; house Arryn has chosen lady Kiyoko to represent them and I see no reason to deny them. House Arryn is the oldest and purest line of Andal nobility, and I have been assured that she is capable of conceiving. You will be happy in this match I think.”

“Thank you for your benevolence my lord.”

Later Koushi strolls around the Red Keep’s famous gardens contemplating the new shape of his future, his brow furrowed in thought. It is not that he is particularly averse to be wed. It is just that he had thought, hoped really, that the absence of a proper last name might have spared him a political marriage.

He has never met the lady Arryn, yet in less than a month they will be bound together under the light of the Seven. Then in a few short months after that he will be journeying to Winterfell for Alisa’s wedding. His world is changing so fast and he can’t help but feel he is on the deck of a ship, tossed about in a late summer storm. Koushi has never meet Alisa’s future partner either, but he is already predisposed to approve of him. Wakatoshi Stark has a reputation as an honourable man, if an inflexible one, sending his brother to the capital for the final stages of brokering a marriage between the two great houses so to not disrupt his daily ruling of the North.

The second Stark has been in Kings Landing for a month and they have built an easy friendship over their love of riding and indifference to the politics and intrigues of the capital. His soon-to-be brother in law possesses the traits of all Starks. Loyal and grounded, Koushi finds it wonderfully refreshing to trespass on his time. He wonders what his life might have been like if he had grown up with Daichi as a brother, far away from the rats nest that is the capital in the winter wonderland Koushi has constructed from his friends descriptions of the North.

Speak of the devil. Down by the large wisteria bush his friend sits on a stone bench overlooking a spectacular view of the bay. His head down, his gaze on the object in his hands, he isn’t aware of Koushi’s approach until he stands right over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

Daichi starts but smiles when he recognises his friend, subtly angling what Koushi can now see is a letter away from Koushi’s curious gaze.

“Writing to my wife.”

“You’re married?” Koushi asks in surprise looking at his friend with new eyes. For all Daichi’s hardy Northman aura he looks quite young, though Koushi quickly reconsiders this as a barrier to marriage. Age doesn’t mean much in marriage in Westeros, especially among the great houses. Besides, his friend will be twenty in a few days, the same age as Koushi. He sighs, he's not a boy anymore.

“Do you….does it agree with you?” Koushi asks casually, brushing off imaginary dirt from the bench and sitting down beside his friend.

Daichi looks thoughtful, brows lowered as he both contemplates Koushi’s words, and checks his letter for errors.

“Well, being apart from her for too long is hard for me, but I always know she will be there when I get back, and when we are together it is…” His new friend’s gaze grows soft, and Koushi gets the feeling he is a miles away, back in his lady’s arms. “She is so lovely.” He whispers, before quickly coming back to himself and flushing brilliantly. Koushi politely looks up at the clouds in the sky, giving his friend time to compose himself.

Daichi clears his throat. “Why the questions? Is there a girl you hope to marry?”

“Ah no, my father has picked me a suitable wife. I will be leaving for her home within the fortnight.”

Daichi hums, folding his letter and slipping it into his pocket. “I can’t imagine marrying a woman my brother chose for me. I suppose I was lucky to marry my Yui.”

Koushi laughs at his friend’s seriousness, wanting to keep the conversation light and his mind optimistic, despite the slight twinge of jealousy at the implications of Daichi’s words. His friend married for love.

“You were. So that’s her name, Yui. It’s pretty. What’s she like?”

“Hmm, she can shoot a bow better than most of my men, but she hasn’t done it for a long time, I think her mother disapproves. She is prone to worrying and jumping to ridiculous conclusions. She is cheerful, always smiling, and….generous, warm. Gods above, this is making me miss her more.” Daichi frowns down at the ground, scratching the tip of his nose in embarrassment at his honesty.

“You love her.” Koushi concludes, smiling for his friend’s happiness. For a moment he imagines himself in Daichi’s place, writing to his own sweet wife, pining for her, coming home to a warm embrace. He can only hope he will have some small fraction of that same happiness for himself.

“When you get back to the capital, search me out. I will still be here.”

“I will.” Koushi smiles, before sighing softly. “Poor Lady Kiyoko, to be tied down to a bastard.”

“ _Royal_ bastard.” Daichi smiles and then raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Lady Kiyoko? She’s a famous beauty you know.”

“Is she? I confess I know little about my marriage partner.”

Daichi coughs again, something Koushi has noticed he does when something makes him uncomfortable.

“I heard some of the men around the Red Keep talking about her. Saying they had heard she was getting married and were sorry. Well that’s not exactly how they said it but—“

“Crude were they?”

“The crudest.”

Koushi hums and falls into silent thought, watching the boats go to and fro in the harbour as the sun sets in a wash of muted, gold fire.

 

* * *

 

 

Winter in the Vale is cold. Much colder than anything Koushi has ever experienced before. It makes him grimace atop his horse, pulling his insubstantial cloak tighter around himself. It feels like a bad omen.

How laughable were his brief fantasies about being born a Stark, he wouldn’t have lasted one winter of this. But now he has to live here, among the clouds. Trapped by the snow and fog for a month before he returns home, briefly, then this will be his home for the rest of his life and he will be an Arryn, tied to a girl he has yet to meet.

The trees of the Vale are horrid spiny things, there is none of the bright lush green he loves so much, nor the pretty patterns of flowers, carefully arranged like they are in the Red Keep gardens. It seems he has come to a desolate place where nature must arm itself against the cold. He must become like them, if he is to survive his time here. On a less romantic note he also makes a mental note to pack more substantial clothes when he is next in the Capital.

He wonders if his father means to squirrel him away up here so the nature of his parentage can no longer be a weakness to potential political enemies. An embarrassment to his noble House. Does the lady Kiyoko know she is a convenient means for his father to sweep his bastard name under the rug?

The great stone fortress clawing up into the sky makes Koushi think of a trapped princess. He feels claustrophobic already. He squares his shoulders; he is not a hapless princess of fairy tale. He is a Targaryen, in blood if not in name. He looks neither left nor right as they ride up to the keep, holding his head high.

After he is received by the Lord of the Vale, a handsome aging man with dark hair sprinkled with grey, his children join him from a sweeping stone staircase and Koushi is introduced to all of them in turn. Tobio and Akira with their faces set into annoyance and mild disdain respectively, little Eri, and finally Lady Kiyoko, his betrothed. She descends the stairs and Koushi’s breath leaves him momentarily.  

She is beautiful, startlingly so. Graceful and stately as she comes to stand beside her father, her heavy skirts swishing about her legs. The colour is severe by the standards of the capital, a deep midnight blue, so dark it is almost black. But it seems to fit her, amongst the grey stone of the keep and the harsh white of the snows that fall past the long windows, against her porcelain skin, her watchful blue eyes.

She greets him in a low, sweet voice, every bit the polite, political bride and Koushi blushes and stutters out his own greeting.

Days pass, and Kiyoko is still just as beautiful. Demure in a way his father would approve of, but it’s more than that Koushi realises as he breaks bread with her for the fifth time. She’s not demure, she’s detached. He speaks and Kiyoko nods her head and agrees, like a doll. A beautiful doll made from ivory, capable of feeling only the most surface emotions.

Koushi is despairing. He thinks of Daichi and his eyes while he talked of his lady wife. The small dream he had entertained then seems so far away now.

In the week before his return to the capital the snows finally cease and Koushi walks through the gardens of frost, mourning the loss of his favourite, flower filled haunts in Kings Landing.

His mind is nowhere in particular when he comes across his betrothed, walking almost parallel to him, off to a part of the gardens he has never ventured to.

She belongs in this kind of landscape. Draped in a heavy, pale blue gown that sweeps the snow covered ground, and sways around her figure as she walks, she seems to come straight out of one of the old songs.  Koushi can see it play out. A winter fey that falls in love with a mortal man, their great love cut short by the coming of spring when his lady inevitably fades from the world.

Koushi smiles faintly at the working of his mind, his eyes traveling over Kiyoko’s profile, from the elegant knot of hair gathered at the back of her head, the curve of her pale throat, half hidden by her fur collar. His gaze has just slipped down to the curve of her chest when to his surprise she begins to sing. Soft, sweet and slightly melancholy, like the wind rustling between the last leaves of autumn. Watching her, listening, he is filled with such a desperate impulse to wrap her in his insubstantial cloak and kiss her cheeks. To murmur sweet things to banish whatever sorrowful thoughts have fuelled the mournful tune.

Still in the grips of this compulsion Koushi takes a step forward, then another. His foot catches on a fallen branch and she startles to see him not five steps from her. Her cheeks pink, and her lovely, blue eyes dart off to the side.

“My lord, you startled me. I did not hear your coming.”

“You sing well,” Koushi says earnestly, his cheeks matching her colouring when he realises he has admitted to watching her, spying almost, as he did not announce his presence.

“I thank you for your compliment.” Kiyoko’s eyes are almost wary as she says it, as if she does not quite believe his words.

They stand awkwardly for a moment in the snow, he feels a fool as he says it, but he takes her gloved hand and haltingly murmurs the words that have been on his mind for a while now. Willing her to see his goodwill in them.

“I know you may not have chosen this marriage for yourself, but…I want to make it work for both of us. I promise I will do my best so that you are never wanting for anything.”

He means the words. He does not desire to be an unfeeling husband or an unworthy partner.

Kiyoko is silent. The snows begin once more, tiny white crystals catch in her dark hair, a crown of white for the winter fey.

Her blue eyes seem very bright against the white of the snow as she searches his face for falsehood. Koushi stands very still and watches as she raises her free hand to his face, brushing the back of her gloved fingers along his cheek.

“You’re as pretty as an elf lord from the stories,” she says quietly, and Koushi smiles because it is her, not him, that belongs in that world of the songs. “I don’t know why, but I believe you. I am in your hands my lord.”


	2. Of kisses and promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all have a wonderful NY! I'm house sitting this year and feeling really lazy so I'm probs just going to get wine drunk while watching LOTR bundled up in blankets lmao.  
> Here is my New Years gift to Fans of Sugakiyo! This chapter is dedicated to K_Lionheart who left a beautiful comment on this fic and made me motivated to get this chapter out.  
> More chapters to come in this story along with other rarepairs I have a soft spot for to be made into stories in this series.  
> Without further ado, enjoy the update!

Koushi wakes from dreams of snowflakes, pale skin and piercing blue eyes, but the longing remains, as does the heat from imagined passion.

It’s a half remembered fantasy that fuels that fire, disappearing with the arrival of the morning light like dew adorning a spiders web. If he strains hard enough he can recall undressing his lady from the gown of dark midnight he first saw her in, then everything dissolves into mindless sensations and naked limbs. He dresses quickly, grimacing when his clothes brush against his arousal. He doesn’t have time to relieve himself today.

Koushi looks out of his window, his eyes naturally gravitating to the high stone tower at the edge of his vision, imagining Lady Kiyoko rising in the wake of the morning light as he is.

His betrothed lives in the west wing, in a tower, like a proper fairtale princess. Koushi smiles at the thought as he continues dressing for the day, his mood upbeat. Lady Kiyoko had told him as they parted yesterday that she had something to show him. He is glad to be shown anything if it means that his soon-to-be wife is slowly unfurling the petals of her carefully guarded heart.

He embarrasses himself at breakfast with his eager replies to Lady Kiyoko’s inquirers over his night’s sleep and general wellbeing. He can feel her brother’s stare on the side of his heated face as he does the same for her. Akira always makes him feel slightly unnerved; he seems to see through all of Koushi’s formal politeness to the real feelings behind them. It doesn’t help that he always seems to find whatever he sees there both quietly amusing and mildly ridiculous. Tobio at least, doesn’t spare him a second glance, too busy steadily demolishing his plate. The young lord of the Eyrie already stands above Koushi, a fact that Koushi can’t help but be aware of, and his appetite suggests he has more growing to do.

A lady servant calls Kiyoko into the adjoining room with a question about the night’s meal, leaving Koushi alone with her siblings.  Koushi almost drops his fork when Akira addresses him, it might be the first time he has of his on violation.

“In truth I’m sure you’ll be as good as any husband to our sister. I don’t personally dislike you, father is over the moon in securing a tie to the crown, and Kiyoko seems to like you. You have many things in your favour here. Don’t screw it up.”

Koushi nods, making sure to keep his voice even. “I mean to do well by her.”

Tobio looks up from his food in time to match Akira’s curt nod at his reply. Then Akira lays down his knife and fork, and sweeps from the room while Tobio helps himself to thirds.

Koushi smiles into his drink, feeling a little less like a stranger among his betrothed’s family.

After breakfast Kiyoko returns and leads him into the gardens, it’s a warmer day then the last, with sunlight sparking off the white snow and dazzling his eyes. His betrothed moves through the winter wonderland with purposeful steps. When they are some ways away from the castle a clear, glass structure comes into view, nestled between several leafless trees.

Kiyoko answers his unasked question with a small smile. “It’s a heated glasshouse. I thought you might be missing the nature and warmer climate of the capital. It’s not the same and rather small but… take it as an apology for not believing this –us— had a chance.”

Koushi smiles and presses her hand.  “Thank you,” he says softly and Kiyoko’s matching smile has his heart skipping a beat.

Inside the glasshouse is an enchanted fairy tale. Koushi gasps as he takes in the rows upon rows of carefully arranged flowers; some he recognizes from the capital but many are foreign to him. Delicate, white blooms in the shape of stars, icy blue petals dipped in fuchsia at the very tips, winding vines of soft, purple flowers that hang low from the glass ceiling, filling the air with their sweet smell. As if in a dream Koushi’s feet move him forward, his hands reaching out to caress the leaves on either side as he passes.

“It’s beautiful,” Koushi whispers, unwilling to break the spell of the place by speaking loudly.

“It is,” Kiyoko agrees, her skirts rustling softly as she brushes past him to a small alcove with a stone bench and table. She sits, unpacking a small, cloth bag she had hidden in the folds of her winter cloak to reveal two flasks, biscuits and her favourite lemon slices, fresh from the kitchens. Koushi sits beside her as she arranges them on a tiny platter. Her hands are pale and long fingered, graceful even in this mundane task.

Today his lady wears a gown of silver-grey, a heavy, midnight blue cloak of velvet clasped at the base of her graceful neck.  She undoes the silver clasp and pushes it off her shoulders as he watches, too warm in the heated glasshouse to find it comfortable. Koushi’s gaze lingers on the exposed skin of her collarbones with an appreciation equal to the one he has for the myriad of flowers around them.

“Do you find the garden to your liking?” Kiyoko asks, handing him one of the small flasks. Koushi nods and takes a tentative sip, pleased when he finds sweet plum wine on his tongue.

“It is lovely; I did not know there was such a place in the Eyrie.”

“Houses like this are how we grow food in the winter here. However they are on the lower mountains and are not much to look at. This one is purely recreational. I spend most of my free time here, the servants know to keep their distance when it is occupied; we will not be disturbed.”

Koushi knows his betrothed only means they will have the glass house to themselves and nothing more, but he can’t quite stop his heart from speeding up at the thought of stealing kisses surrounded by all of this green finery.

Kiyoko takes a bite out of a lemon slice, her expression inward, then continues, “Have I told you of my parents’ marriage?”

Koushi shakes his head, his gaze on his lady’s profile as she speaks.

“Theirs was a marriage of convenience. Political, just like ours will be. I am sure they were fond of each other, but it was a comfortable, tepid love.” Kiyoko gestures around them with a smile, lovely, faint and slightly melancholy.

“This greenhouse was my mothers. She was from warmer climates and missed the gardens of her home. This place was my father’s gift to her after their tenth year of marriage. It is the greatest display of devotion and love he ever gave her. That was her last year in this world and I think, no, I know, that towards the end their love grew with the flowers she planted here. But my mother died in childbirth, she was always a small thing, and just when their affection might have blossomed into something of the heart and not the head it was cut off.”

Koushi starts slightly when she touches the back of his hand with her delicate fingers, her gaze on his face.

“Forgive me, I have never known there to be any other kind of affection in a political marriage and I had steeled myself in anticipation for it.”

Koushi’s heart pumps so loudly he is worried she will hear it, his lady smells like snowmelt and sage and some other scent he can’t identify.

With a surge of bravery he curls his arm around his lady’s waist, blushing at his forwardness as he draws her closer to his body and uses his free hand to cup her cheek, raising her face to his.

“What would you wish of me?” he asks. He knows she told him this story for a reason, he can see it in her expression.

Her eyes are so blue, her smile lovely, with just the barest trace of something that will keep him awake at night.

“Convince me otherwise.”

They return to the glasshouse garden often after that. Koushi plays for her and she sits beside him with her eyes closed and a small smile on her face. Sometimes she sings, and the sweet, high sound fills the air and echoes off the high glass structure, interweaving with the notes he pulls from his strings.

He learns that Kiyoko mostly tends the garden by herself and has done so since the death of her mother. He can imagine a young Kiyoko quietly tending the plants in the memory of her mother who she speaks of fondly. It is a precious picture.

On his last day in the Eyrie they bring a small feast with them to their spot, arranging the food around the little white stone table. He is talking about his home, the places he means to bring her when they visit the capital together after their wedding, when Kiyoko shuffles closer to him and leans her head on his shoulder. Koushi’s hands begin to sweat in his lap but he continues speaking.

He does not know what it is about this woman that undoes him so. In his youth he did not find it difficult to interact with the women of his home city. But the smallest gesture or look from his betrothed has him scrambling to remember his name. Unknown to him his lady smiles into his shoulder, aware of his accelerated heartbeat under her ear. She enjoys teasing him like this, amusing herself with the reactions she can pull from him while keeping a blank expression.

Her voice when she next speaks is slightly muffled in his collar. “Have you enjoyed your stay here?”

“Very much so, I will miss you in the capital.”

Kiyoko hums, playing with the edge of his tunic. She says nothing, then, so softly he only hears it because she is pressed to him, “Hurry back to me.”

Koushi’s heart aches, but the sensation is almost sweet. He presses his lips to her brow, and then turns his face so he can feel her soft hair on his cheek, inhaling her scent and reaching for the hand in her lap to weave his fingers through hers.

He doesn’t know how long they sit together, a tableau of the winter fey and her besotted lover. A secret rendezvous in the garden perhaps, or an exchange of promise vows before the mortal lover goes to war. Koushi can think up a hundred stories for this moment, but right now they seem to pale in the face of the reality of it. A moment that is simple and sweet and honest.

Small strands of Kiyoko’s hair have escaped her chignon and are beginning to curl against her neck from the heat of the glasshouse and their embrace. Koushi fingers itch to touch them but his lady is moving, raising her face to his. Kiyoko lays her hand against his jaw and Koushi stops breathing, his heart beating double time. His betrothed kisses him, light and chaste, only the barest brush of her lips, but Koushi’s blood is boiling. He makes a conscious effort to rein in his sudden surge of passionate feelings. Afraid the force of them will frighten her away. That his lady initiated their first kiss means more to him then he would have thought possible. She must care for him on some level to do such a thing. His own hands move to cup her face, his lips twitching upwards when her eyelids immediately flutter down at his touch.

His lady has a tiny mole near her lips, a sweet, little thing that almost seems to frame her lush mouth, tempting him. He kiss her there, then leans his forehead against hers, unable to stop his wide smile at Kiyoko’s surprised expression. To his own surprise he notes that the sunlight is fading, and so lifts his lady from her seat by the hand with the intention of leading her to the exit, but her fingers find his collar, pulling him down to her height and ignoring his small noise of shock. She kisses him under his eye, fleeting and warm.  “We match,” she says, smiling faintly as she takes the lead down the path, her hand still clasped in his. Koushi’s heart is full of tender feelings, but they are tinged with a gentle kind of sadness. He won't see her for a month after his return to the capital. Spring has come and he, the fool mortal, must give up his fey lady till next winter.

The capital is unchanged, a week passes, Koushi farewells Daichi who is eager to be with his wife again. Another week passes before his father summons him to his study and even then the visit is brief. His father asks him about his stay in the Eyrie, his fingers steepled under his chin and his expression coolly calculating. He knows his father is not asking about affairs of the heart, nor anything of his betrothed outside of her being a stepping stone for the royal house to extend its influence. It angers him, which is surprising in itself. His father’s understanding of the world and his political, tactical mind-set have never concerned him overly much. But Kiyoko is so wonderful, her brief smiles precious and pure. He doesn’t want her to be tangled in any part of his father’s plans. He wants to protect her smile.

“It went well. I do not think there will be a disagreement on either side in this match,” he says, bowing his head dutifully as his father nods in approval of his answer.

“And the girl?” he asks bluntly, every inch the Targaryen patriarch.

Koushi doesn’t say, “I dream of her smile and the taste of her kisses.” But he thinks it, so that must count for something. “I find no fault with her,” he says instead. That’s good. It makes it sound like he was searching for them in his father’s manner during his stay.

His father stands, walking over to the window and reaching for a glass of his favourite mead.

 “Do not forget that with this match you will gain a proper last name. That is more then you could have hoped for.” His father keeps his back to him as he says it and Koushi rises from his seat and drops a small bow. He recognises his dismissal.

* * *

 

Her wedding is long-winded and tiresome. Perhaps that is not what a bride should think of her wedding day, but she dislikes receiving congratulations from people who barely know her or her husband. She supposes that is one of the consequences of marrying one connected to the crown.

When the Septon’s speech finally concludes there is the marriage feast, an extravagant spread to match the decorations she personally oversaw with her maidservants. She smiles quietly at her husband’s side as he sees them for the first time. Garlands of flowers, many she had cultivated during their engagement, coil around the banister and pillars, a simple elegant touch. She can feel her husband’s gaze on her as he draws her over to the high table, his arm steady under hers. She does not look back, afraid that what she sees there will break her mask of a carefully composed society bride. This day is not for them. Not really. Swaths of guest amble about the room to their seats or stand in large clusters around the walls of the great hall. She can feel their eyes on her, assessing, speaking behind their hands to one another. She shivers and stands closer to Koushi, the high table seems so far away. It’s hard to breathe in this suffocating atmosphere.

“Kiyoko?”

Her husband’s amber eyes are concerned, a worried pinch to his mouth. Kiyoko smiles stiffly, trying to ease his mind.

“It is hard to breath in this dress.”

 It’s a half-truth. Her waist is tightly corseted, pinching the skin of her hips and making her slightly light-headed. Koushi makes a noise of understanding, his expression sympathetic.

“Try to bear with it. It won’t be for long now.”

Her husband seems to register the implications of his words and blushes, quickly turning his face away from hers to hide the pink staining his cheeks. Kiyoko smiles, her spell of anxiety washed away by her husband’s manner. She wants this marriage to work. Her husband is caring and gentle, if easily flustered by her touch, but she can admit she finds that sweet also. She notes that someone has gone to the trouble of sewing banners adorned with the three headed dragon of her husband’s house and her own, familiar falcon motif. It seems like a frivolous touch when this is the only time they will be usable. But someone no doubt thought it worth their while.

She catches Koushi gazing at her again during the feast and wonders what he sees. Her hair is arranged into a delicate knot with strings of pale blue jewels dripping from an ornate hairpin. Her head feels heavy as she turns her face towards her siblings, smiling softly at little Eri stealing Akira’s food off his plate while he pretends not to notice. Kiyoko’s dress is a pale cream, embroidered with a flower motif in silver thread at the cuffs, collar and sweeping hem. She is the second bride of house Arryn to wear it, hence the pinching of her waist. She imagines she can still smell her mother’s perfume on the fabric, but that is nothing more than a wistful thought. The cloak resting heavy on her shoulders is the same joined sigil of the banners high above her. Apparently it had caused some uncertainty for the seamstress tasked with designing it. Her husband is marrying into her house, not unheard of but much rarer than the alternative. It was one of the conditions of their union. “A clever way for the bastard Targaryen to be swept under the rug,” her husband had said one evening as they walked back to the castle, his smile slightly morose.

She supposes that having the wedding here and not in the capital serves that aim as well. His father is notably absent from the ceremony, but Alisa is here, looking otherworldly in a wine-red gown, her pale hair falling free over her shoulders, a small tasteful diadem of two intertwined dragons nestled on her head. Lev is also here in a doublet of the same cloth, happily sampling the food and talking to Tobio about jousting, the only thing Tobio ever seems to fully pay attention to. She can see the envy on her brother’s face as the young prince describes the last king’s tourney, some story about Sir Hajime’s victory over Sir Takanobu, the unclaimed but widely suspected bastard of her husband’s house. She is glad Tobio seems to be having fun, even Akira is too still as he eats to not be paying attention over his brothers shoulder. She fights back laughter at Tobio’s enraptured expression, recalling that her brother had suggested Sir Hajime as her marriage partner when her father had begun to search for a man for her to wed. Kiyoko suspects it had been mostly due to his hero worship of the knight rather than any other quality one might look for in a husband.

The feast continues on in earnest, Kiyoko posture getting progressively more ridged as the hours pass and the time for her bedding ceremony looms closer. She takes small bites of the lemon slice some person thought to supply her with, her stomach rolling with nerves as she imagines the male guests leering at her as they strip her clothes from her body.

She is distracted from her anxiety momentarily by the arrival of a handsome, dark-haired man at the high table. “You came!” her husband exclaims beside her, standing to great the new comer with a warm smile.

"I wouldn’t miss your wedding day. Though I can only stay for tonight. Yui gets lonely—“

“Oh? _Yui_ gets lonely?” Her husband grins, his voice familiar and teasing. This must be an old joke between the two of them.

The man waves him away, “I’m not lying. She’s very emotional; the maester said it is normal for women with child to be that way.”

Koushi nods in understanding, his gaze flicking to Kiyoko as if he can’t quite help it. Her husband makes belated introduction and Daichi Stark is honest in his congratulations. It makes such a nice change from the many odious, long-winded congratulatory speeches Kiyoko has been made to endure that she smiles freely, forgetting the eyes on her and the weight of the night for one blissful moment. But then Daichi is excusing himself, only momentarily delayed by her husband’s hand on his arm as he mutters something into his friend’s ear. Kiyoko pays them no mind, her eyes on her plate, her stomach a mess of nerves again.

The rest of the feast passes her in a blur, coming back into sharp focus as she hears one of the drunker guests loudly whisper the dreaded words into his equally drunk companion’s ear.

Her husband makes a small gesture with his hand, and as one her brothers, lev and Daichi Stark rise and hasten to her side and bundle her out of the hall echoing the growing drunken swells of “To bed! To bed!”

They are out of sight of the great hall before Kiyoko can so much as make eye contact with her husband, hastening down the winding corridors to the west wing were her chamber lies. Daichi Stark smiles apologetically at her hip as he adjusts his grip on her waist saying, “Your husband is a good man. He will serve you faithfully; he talked of you often when last we were together.”

“And if he ever hurts you we can always throw him out the moon door,” Akira adds, sneakily dropping his hands from her leg and making Tobio carry more of her weight as they reach the stone steps leading up to her chamber. Something clicks as the small party begin to ascend the staircase. “He asked you to do this didn’t he?”

Lev nods, happy to be a part of the excitement. “My brother is actually a rather jealous man. But doing anything more drastic might have displeased our father.”

Kiyoko laughs behind her hand as they place her back on her feet in front of her door. They leave her, wishing her well and then Kiyoko has nothing to do except wait for her husband to join her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have several other rarepairs lined up for this series including Akiteru x Saeko, Misaki x Yuji and Bokuto x Shirofuku to name a few. I feel sad whenever I search for content for them whenever I want a break from the mainstream pairings only to find nothing. So I decided to write my own lmao!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello :)  
> I would love to hear your thoughts about this piece so leave a comment if you feel like making my day.  
> I had lot's of fun writing this story and I hope it was fun for you to read it. :)


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